


Soaring Faith

by imthetitanic



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist Grantaire, Asexual Enjolras, Bipolar Grantaire, Cuddling & Snuggling, Demiromantic Enjolras, Depressed Enjolras, Depression, Enjolras-centric, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Jehan Is Agender, M/M, Oops, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Platonic Cuddling, Polyamory, Self-Harm, Sometimes Platonic, at least, but there is lots of cuddling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-04-21 14:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4832396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imthetitanic/pseuds/imthetitanic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is depressed and struggling, living in an old building with Les Amis. Grantaire finds out that Enjolras has been harming himself, and tries to help him because Enjolras always helped Grantaire.</p><p>Inspired by <a href="http://imthetitanic.tumblr.com/post/129309864735/born-in-chains-of-revolution-so-its-pretty">this</a> tumblr post.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggers: not super graphic self harm scene, depression, self-loathing, mentions of mental illness.

Enjolras was sick of the cold, sick of being alone, and above all sick of the way Grantaire had holed himself up in his studio upstairs with his paints and the giant canvas everyone had chipped in for. They thought it was probably better if Grantaire had a room for his art (mostly to keep it from spreading all over the house), which resulted in Marius and Courfeyrac being forced to share a room. Not that either of them minded much, of course.

Yes, everyone’s lives had changed for the better when they had bought the old, run-down foreclosure to share. It was certainly financially better than individually paying rent when they spent so much time together anyway. And Enjolras knew it was probably better for him this way, sharing a room with R and sharing the rest of the house with everyone else. But at the same time, he missed his privacy. He needed that privacy.

Especially now that spring was approaching and the bitter cold receding. When it started to get warm, Enjolras didn’t know what he would say to justify the red jacket he never took off. Unconsciously he tugged the sleeves down, then glanced up to make sure no one had seen them come up any more. Combeferre was the only other one in the room, though, and he was engrossed in his anatomy textbook. This was a rare moment of quiet, so Enjolras grabbed the legal textbook he had been reading, ran to his room, and locked the door.

When he glanced around the empty room, he couldn’t stifle a bitter smirk at the decorations. Grantaire had begged to be able to decorate this room for weeks. The room was covered in sexuality flags, mostly the pan flag and ace flag, to represent both of them, but there were some rainbows and others in there as well. 

It was a veritable well of positivity, which was the reason Grantaire had wanted it. He had struggled with manic depression for ages, something Enjolras had always tried to help him through. And with that in mind, how could Enjolras say no to a decoration scheme that would make R happy? He had even gotten Grantaire to let him hang a French flag, so really, he knew he shouldn’t complain. 

That was the other reason for the art room. Enjolras hadn’t been able to shake the image of a very drunk, very bloody Grantaire from his mind since he had come home one day and found his boyfriend lying on the floor. Ever since then, the alcohol had been under lock and key, and Grantaire started painting. And he painted a lot. Not even Enjolras knew what he was painting. 

Enjolras pulled his jacket tighter around him and started rummaging in the nightstand. When his hand touched cool metal, he withdrew the blade of the box cutter from the drawer. He didn’t ever bother to fight this. He fought so many battles daily with people at the university, with his friends, hell, even with Grantaire. This was something he didn’t have to fight, it was just something he needed to hide.

He shrugged out of his jacket, shivering at the sudden lack of a barrier between the cold air and his arms. He stared down at his arms, which were zigzagged with scars he hoped his friends would never see. Not that they would. He was an activist first and foremost, even with his friends. And he couldn’t be seen to be weak or need help, not while Grantaire needed support. 

Besides, they didn’t pay much attention to him beyond his passionate activism. If he left, they would carry on just fine without him. Combeferre shared his passion and would continue guiding the friends. With that thought, he ran the box cutter along his arm, making a shallow but vertical cut, crossing over all the horizontals. 

He did the same on the other arm, and just let them bleed. They weren’t deep enough to do lasting damage (unfortunately). Enjolras started to laugh. He could just imagine Joly seeing this. Soon, his laughter turned to tears, which in their turn were stifled behind choking sobs while he bandaged his arms and pulled his jacket back on. 

Once there wasn’t a chance of bleeding onto a pillowcase and making it obvious what he had done, Enjolras grabbed a pillow and shoved his face into it to muffle the sound of his crying. Damn it, he was strong. He was the leader. He had no right to do this. Soon he regained his composure, but didn’t unlock the door. He didn’t want to run the risk of anyone seeing him in this state, and he certainly didn’t want to try to talk when there was such a high risk of his voice possibly cracking and giving his state away.

Which was why he flinched when the doorknob rattled. “Enjolras, is that you in there?” Grantaire called through the door. 

Enjolras didn’t answer, instead busily wiping the box cutter on his black jeans and hiding it back in the drawer.

“Apollo?” The doorknob rattled again.

Enjolras grabbed his old music player out of the drawer and shoved an earbud into his ear, then opened his textbook. “Oh, yeah, sorry.” He stood up and went to the door, noting the trembling in his legs and stiffening them automatically. 

Hoping Grantaire didn’t see something he had missed, Enjolras unlocked the door, but before he could open it, the handle twisted and the door flew open. Enjolras jumped back, narrowly avoiding getting hit in the face. Grantaire rushed into the room and pulled Enjolras into a tight hug. Enjolras hesitated before returning it, holding back a hiss at the painful pressure on his arms.

Grantaire seemed to sense Enjolras stiffening and released him. “You all right?”

Not really trusting his voice to give away the lie, Enjolras nodded. “How was painting?” Benign topic. Deflect off of the topic of his mental state. He could do that. He could feel tightness in his chest. He could feel himself beginning to choke again. Enjolras backed up and sat on the bed. Grantaire followed, eyebrows lowered. 

Sitting next to Enjolras, he said, “Painting was fine. Are you all right?”

Enjolras narrowed his eyes. “I’m fine.” He held back a wince as his voice caught. “I’ve just been studying.”

“Then why was our door locked?” Grantaire was obviously too observant when it came to Enjolras to be fooled by the excuses he usually used with the rest of them. 

“Didn’t want to be disturbed.” _Please just shrug this off. Please let it go._ Enjolras stared Grantaire dead in the eye, but was surprised by the action Grantaire took. Instead of arguing with him (the urge for which was clearly sparking in his eyes), the dark haired man leaned in and pressed a light kiss to Enjolras’s lips. 

When he pulled away, he gripped Enjolras’s jaw gently and stayed leaned in close. “I know you’re hiding something.” His eyes weren’t burning anymore, and instead looked a little glassy. “You could always tell me what it is before I’m forced to take drastic measures.”

Enjolras wasn’t given a chance to contemplate what those drastic measures could be before he was on his back on the bed, straddled by Grantaire, who placed his hands on either of Enjolras’s hips.

“Start talking or I’ll tickle.” Grantaire raised an eyebrow when Enjolras started trying to struggle his way out of the position he was in. He grabbed Enjolras’s arm and released it immediately when Enjolras hissed in pain.

“R, get off.” Enjolras sat up when Grantaire moved off of him silently. “I’m going downstairs.”

“Take off that jacket.” The words were quiet, the voice small. Enjolras stood to go downstairs, but Grantaire stood and blocked the door. “Take off the jacket.” 

“No.” Enjolras tried to push past, but Grantaire wasn’t budging. “Let me out.” He put as much command into the words as he could. 

Grantaire gripped his shoulders and spun him, pulling the jacket off. Enjolras faced him, holding his bandaged arms out to his sides. “There. There you go. Give me back the jacket and let me go downstairs.”

Grantaire had his back against the door. He looked stricken. He stared down at the jacket, then looked back up at Enjolras. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Nothing to tell.” Enjolras took a step forward and took the jacket out of Grantaire’s hands. Grantaire still didn’t move aside. Were they really going to have to talk about this? Now? “Don’t—don’t tell the others. They don’t need to know.”

Grantaire still wasn’t moving. “Enjolras…you could have told me you were having problems. I’ll always be here for you.”

Enjolras just shook his head. “You didn’t need to know. Please just let me go downstairs.”

“Actually this is pretty damn important to know. Sit on the bed.” Enjolras had never seen this side of Grantaire before. He was commanding, but his eyes were shattered. Enjolras did so, shrugging the jacket back on as he went.

Grantaire sat next to him. “Can you tell me why?” 

“No.”

Grantaire wrapped his arms around Enjolras, holding him gently. “This all right?”

Enjolras allowed the embrace to happen, hoping Grantaire would just drop the subject after this. Now his boyfriend knew. How long would it be before everyone else did too? “I don’t want you to tell them.”

Grantaire released him. “Will you tell them?”

“No. Never. This isn’t a problem, R. I just…it feels better. And they won’t see it that way. I can tell you don’t.” Enjolras sighed. “I have law homework. Can we talk about this later?”

Grantaire nodded, obviously reluctant. “Sure.”

Enjolras picked up his textbook and went downstairs, leaving Grantaire sitting on the bed, head in his hands. He hoped the rest wouldn’t know by morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this was supposed to be a oneshot and it doesn't look like that's the case. Let me know what you think?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to have this up a lot earlier, but this is taking more work than I thought it would, on top of school and all that. Thank you guys for being patient, and, above all, for your kudos, comments, subscriptions, and bookmarks. I was not expecting a reception as positive as this, so thank you so much. I really appreciate it!
> 
> Triggers for this chapter: non graphic, not severe self harm scene, mentions of aro/acephobia, mental health discussion, self harm discussion, small description of self harm aftermath, mentions of suicide (but no ideation).

“R giving you a hard time?” Combeferre asked, looking up from his work, when Enjolras came downstairs. The anatomy book was still open on the table, the notebook beside it open to a page that was almost entirely covered in Combeferre’s tiny, scrawled notes. 

Enjolras shrugged, not looking his friend in the eye. “When doesn’t he?” Enjolras forced a chuckle through his tight throat and immediately regretted the action. The sound was frankly inhuman, and it wasn’t like Enjolras ever laughed much in the first place. 

He regretted it even more when Combeferre raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. “What did he do? Do you want to stay in my room tonight?” This was a common offer, usually extended to Enjolras when he and Grantaire got in a fight…which was often. He didn’t usually take Combeferre up on it, but he certainly appreciated it. 

This time, though, it was his fault. He shoved R away, didn’t talk to him like he wanted. He didn’t feel the need to talk to him about it. Why did he need to talk about it? Enjolras realized that Combeferre was still waiting for an answer, however patiently. He shook his head. “No. It’s not a big deal.” He sat on the couch and opened his Justice textbook again. 

He was halfway into the case study article he was supposed to read for a discussion on the class forum when Combeferre spoke up again. “It’s all right for you to be angry with him, you know.” His voice was soft, cautious. 

The next words came out of Enjolras’s mouth unbidden. “It’s all right for you to shut up about it, you know,” he snapped, voice fierce and low. He didn’t want to draw the rest of the household down on their heads. 

The look of hurt that crossed Combeferre’s eyes was only there for a split second, but Enjolras watched it pass and guilt stabbed through him. What gave him the right to snap at Combeferre? He was just concerned for Enjolras, and Enjolras had lashed out at him. What was happening?

Instead of snapping back at Enjolras, which was all he felt he really deserved, Combeferre got up and came to sit next to Enjolras. “What happened?”

For a moment, Enjolras was tempted just to tell Combeferre the truth. Only for a moment, though, because then his brain caught up and he said, “He was pushing me to talk about something I don’t want to talk about.” Not a lie. Enjolras didn’t like lying, but sometimes it was necessary. He was all for democracy, but not when it came to his personal decisions. Those could be his own. 

Combeferre looked at him with concern. “All right. When you’re ready to talk for real, I’ll be at the table. I’m here if you need me.” Enjolras nodded and Combeferre nudged him in the shoulder before getting up and going back to his work. “I heard Grantaire panicking,” he said from the relatively safe spot on the other side of the room. “He wasn’t exactly quiet.”

Hazards of living on only the second floor instead of the third, Enjolras supposed. He sighed. “Everything is fine, Combeferre.” Lie. Enjolras winced as he said it. He _really_ didn’t like lying. 

Combeferre raised his eyebrows for a moment, then sighed and turned back to his work. “Like I said, man. Whenever you’re ready to talk.” He started writing again. 

Enjolras didn’t say anything after that. He felt terrible for lying to his friend and worse for worrying Grantaire and now the lines on his arms weren’t working anymore. To make matters worse, R was probably going to be on high alert for a while, and Enjolras wasn’t good at subtlety. 

Enjolras bounced his leg while he tried to read, but that moved the book and was thus not the best thing to do while reading. He stilled his leg and dug his nails into his palm. It calmed him down a bit, enough to focus on the reading. When he was done, he started formulating his response to the forum. 

This was clearly a case of discrimination, Enjolras just wasn’t sure how a court would proceed in this case, or how a lawyer would prove discrimination. He wasn’t studying to be a lawyer, after all. Not now, at any rate. He sighed. He hated to make up an answer without being thoroughly informed, but this was due at midnight and he hadn’t been prepared. 

There had been a time when he had gotten homework done as soon as he could and moved on to more important things, but he could barely bring himself to do that work anymore…it was a miracle he was still as involved with the LGBT movement as he was.. Before Grantaire, he was always dismissed as just another ally, being on both the aromantic and asexual spectrum. He had almost abandoned the community before Grantaire waltzed into his life. 

Enjolras decided to go at the question from that perspective instead of a lawyer’s perspective. What would he do? With that in mind, he had a response quickly. The only problem was that he would have to go upstairs to get the laptop and he didn’t want Combeferre asking questions as to why he was leaving and he certainly didn’t want to deal with Grantaire trying to fix him. There was nothing to fix. 

He sighed, standing up. Combeferre glanced up, and Enjolras refused to make eye contact. He didn’t need to justify his actions to his friend. Besides, he just needed to go finish an assignment. Combeferre was more diligent a student than Enjolras and would understand. Without asking questions. 

With that thought, he started up the stairs. He could feel Combeferre watching after him, sending shivers up his spine, but that didn’t much matter as long as he didn’t say anything. Grantaire, on the other hand…

Sure enough, the dark-haired man was in their bedroom when he made it up the stairs, and Enjolras knew he really shouldn’t have been surprised at the box cutter blade on the bedspread. Grantaire was sitting cross-legged on the bed like some sort of sensei, with Enjolras’s blade in front of him. 

“Where are the others?” Grantaire asked without preamble. He didn’t inflect his voice at all, and Enjolras knew this was the beginning of a depressive cycle. He felt an overwhelming urge to get the blade on the bed away from his boyfriend, but decided against a lunge of that nature. Knowing Grantaire, that would only get someone hurt on accident.

Enjolras stood frozen in the doorway but quickly relaxed. “Hi, R, I’m doing just fine, thanks for asking.” Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “I’m just here for my laptop and then I’ll get out of your hair.”

Enjolras’s eyes went to the laptop sitting on his nightstand and he took a few steps forward. “I’m not kidding,” Grantaire said. Enjolras was relieved to hear a note of anger in his voice. “Where are the others?”

“Will you keep your voice down? Combeferre interrogated me when I got downstairs,” Enjolras said lightly. He took a few more steps toward his laptop. 

Grantaire shifted on the bed. “Did you tell him?” Enjolras shook his head and went the rest of the way to grab his laptop. “You need to tell one of the others. I’m obviously not the one who’s going to be able to help you. I’m not good at this.”

Enjolras sighed. He needed to stop this train of thought before it went any further. He sat down on the bed, opposite Grantaire, the blade between them. “I am not going to tell any of them. This isn’t something I want or need help with. Can you just accept that?” Enjolras was painfully aware of the open door and the very real possibility one of the other residents of the house would drop in. 

Grantaire’s lips tightened, and he said in a low, fierce voice, “Listen, Enjolras, this is not a path you want to go down. It never goes away. Not ever. You’ll look down at your arms and see the maps you drew but they won’t lead you anywhere good.” Now his voice just sounded sad. “I know you think you know what you’re doing, but you don’t.”

Enjolras stood up and shut the door, turning the lock. He sat back down on the bed and removed his jacket. The bandages showed stark against his skin, and he hoped the cuts weren’t still open as he unwrapped them. 

Grantaire was worried about Enjolras not knowing what he was getting himself into, huh? The fresh cuts weren’t oozing blood, which was nice, but Enjolras knew he was going to have to wash them again. It wasn’t the fresh ones he was interested in showing his boyfriend, though. 

Grantaire’s eyes widened, and his hands clasped together in front of him. Enjolras was glad. He really didn’t want Grantaire touching them right now. “I know what I’m doing, R. I’m not going to apologize, and I’m not going to tell anyone, because this is my business.”

“Those are vertical.” Grantaire delivered this pronouncement flatly. 

Enjolras nodded.

Grantaire wrapped his arms around himself, pulling his knees up to his forehead as he cried. He sat there for a minute, and Enjolras had no idea what he was supposed to be doing. Should he comfort him? Did he need Enjolras to hug him? Enjolras was moving in to do just that when Grantaire’s head finally came up. 

His eyes were rimmed in red and his face was deathly pale. He took a breath. Enjolras knew what he was going to do a second before he did it. “Combeferre!” Grantaire yelled.

Enjolras threw the jacket back on, struggling to get his arms through the holes without crying out in pain. He wasn’t sure what he should do with the bloody bandages or blade, both of which were just sitting out on the bedspread. 

The doorknob rattled. Enjolras was glad the lock actually worked. He had never tested it in this kind of situation before. “What’s wrong?” Combeferre called through the door. 

“I need your help,” Grantaire called back. Enjolras shot him a glare, which he met easily. “I wasn’t going to tell any of them, but that’s something I’m not going to stay quiet about.” 

Enjolras had forgotten how badly Grantaire would react to seeing that these cuts were vertical. He hadn’t been doing it to actually permanently hurt himself (probably), but no one else knew that. Before Enjolras could stop him, Grantaire had launched himself off the bed and toward the door. Before Enjolras could brace himself, Combeferre was inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love your feedback, always :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for self-hatred, self-harm, and mentions of suicide.
> 
> You guys rock and I am so sorry for not updating for so long. It's been a rough week with school. I will try to update before next weekend, since I'm going back to my parents' house. I still can't believe the subscriptions and bookmarks and kudos I've gotten for a first foray into Les Mis fanfiction, so thank you all so much <3

Enjolras turned around, hoping to block Combeferre’s view, but his friend just walked around the bed. He took one look at the box cutter and bandages and sat next to Enjolras on the bed. “I said I was here for when you were ready to talk,” he said simply.

Enjolras nodded. “So you did.” Was Combeferre going to press?

“Are you ready to talk to me?” Combeferre made no move to touch Enjolras, for which he was grateful. 

Grantaire interjected, “Take off your jacket, Apollo. Let him see.”

Combeferre held up his index finger, keeping his eyes fixed on Enjolras’s. “Are you ready to talk to me?”

Enjolras glanced between Grantaire and Combeferre. “I would rather not.”

Combeferre inclined his head. “Then, in the interest of Grantaire not running to get Joly, which I’m sure is on his mind right now, considering our surroundings, why don’t you take off your jacket, let me clean your cuts and rebandage them, and we can talk about it later?”

Enjolras nodded. This was a far better plan than Grantaire getting Joly, which was definitely within the realm of possibility and something Enjolras wanted to never ever happen. He winced as he dragged the material of his jacket over the fresh cuts. Combeferre looked at them almost clinically, then looked at Grantaire. 

He paused, seeming to contemplate what he needed to say next, then nodded almost imperceptibly. “R, I need you to get me warm water, a cloth, and fresh bandages.”

Grantaire nodded. Casting a glance over his shoulder, he was gone. 

Enjolras felt his chest tightening as Combeferre held his wrist and ever so slightly ghosted his long, dark fingers over the cuts. “These are vertical, which is generally used to distinguish a suicide attempt from self-harm, but they are also shallow.” He looked up, meeting Enjolras’s eyes. Enjolras felt strangely comforted by the gaze. “Care to explain?”

Enjolras let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know,” he said, voice quavering under Combeferre’s unflinching attention.

Combeferre nodded. “We didn’t know you were having this problem. None of us did. Thinking back, sometimes Jehan gave off the impression that ze did, wouldn’t you agree?”

Enjolras looked back in his memory. Jehan gravitated toward him, always playing with his hair, making him flower crowns…Enjolras had never stopped to think about why that might be. Sometimes ze brushed hir hands over Enjolras’s sleeves. Enjolras had always assumed that was just Jehan being Jehan, but now he thought about it, ze had spent a disproportionate amount of time trying to cheer Enjolras up.

He nodded slowly. “Perhaps ze did.” He sighed. “Then again, Jehan is practically telepathic.”

Combeferre chuckled. “You really can tell me what happened, mon frère.” He fixed Enjolras with that sympathetic look once again, twining their fingers together. 

Enjolras let himself be pulled against Combeferre’s shoulder. “It’s just a stress thing. Nothing to worry about,” he said. 

“Because you’re the fearless leader, but you’re scared. You don’t know how protests will go, you don’t want to see any of us injured, and let’s face it, your studies are ridiculously complex.” Enjolras sat up, looking Combeferre dead in the eye. But Combeferre didn’t stop there. “You didn’t tell anyone…not R, not me or Courf…because it would make you look weak and that can’t happen, not while you’re leading the fight.” Combeferre was hitting the nail on the head, and it was frankly terrifying for Enjolras for someone to get that deep into his head. 

Instead of saying Combeferre was right, though, Enjolras shrugged. “I don’t know, ‘Ferre. It’s nothing that I felt you all should be bothered with.”

Combeferre glanced toward the doorway before lowering his voice and saying, “Because we’re all taking care of R.”

This time Enjolras couldn’t help but nod. “He’s so important to me,” he spluttered, and goddammit he was _spluttering_ and then he had been pulled against Combeferre again and then he was crying into Combeferre’s shoulder. “I’m not the one to worry about. I’m handling it. I just want to be able to help him without needing his help. He shouldn’t have to deal with me.”

Enjolras heard the slightest gasp from the doorway and knew Grantaire had heard him. Knew Grantaire had heard him say this was his fault, even if it wasn’t. That’s what Grantaire would get from that, and Enjolras knew it. Similar things had happened. 

Even so, Enjolras heard light footsteps coming towards Combeferre and him, felt another person sit down and place a hand on his shoulder. He sat up, and Combeferre started daubing his forearms with the warm water. He met Grantaire’s gaze exactly once, and looked away almost immediately. He had caused the shattered look in the eyes of the man he loved. 

Instead of looking at Grantaire, he watched the dried blood being washed away. He watched Combeferre’s nimble fingers wrap the bandages around his arms and allowed his friend to pull the jacket back onto him. Through it all, he couldn’t look back at Grantaire. 

Combeferre looked between the two of them and sighed. “I think you two have some things to talk about, so I’m going to leave you alone to do so.” On his final three words, he looked rather pointedly at Enjolras, who nodded resolutely, even though he was terrified. He never wanted to hurt Grantaire. 

Combeferre put a hand on Enjolras’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Enjolras.” With that, he stood up and left the room, leaving Enjolras and Grantaire sitting next to each other on the bed.

“Will you talk to me now, Apollo?” Grantaire asked. His voice was soft, his tone cautious. Enjolras nodded without looking at him.

He took a deep breath. “Why do you still call me Apollo? I’m anything but godly. Hell, I just hurt you.”

An arm settled itself on his shoulders and drew him in close to Grantaire. “Because you are the sun to me. Because the sun can burn, but it gives life.”

Enjolras pulled away and stared incredulously at Grantaire. “How can you say that? Now, after everything? I know what I said hurt you, but you’re just coming back, pretending nothing happened.”

Grantaire nodded. “What you said stung, Apollo, until I remembered that I know the feelings involved with what you’re going through. You feel like you’re a burden to everyone who would be able to help you.”

“I don’t deserve your sympathy, Grantaire. I will just keep hurting you and hurting you until nothing is left because that is what I do.” Enjolras buried his face in his hands. 

Grantaire knelt in front of him. “No, baby. You deserve everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me hear your thoughts on this! I love hearing from you guys :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh lord. I am so so sorry this took so long. College has been rough and my personal life's been a little crazy. No chapters after this will take this long. And we're coming up on the end. I feel so bad...and if there are any errors, that's because it's a little past four in the morning here and I am exhausted. I love you guys so much; thank you for reading, for your kudos, your subscriptions, and bookmarks. This is doing better than I ever thought it would.
> 
> Triggers: self-hate, mentions of mental illness.

Enjolras shook his head, putting his hands down and gazing into Grantaire’s eyes. “I’m here to lead protests, nothing more. And nothing is changing.” He sighed. “You, of all people, know that.”

Grantaire seemed to contemplate that for a moment before hesitantly reaching for Enjolras’s hands. “Is this okay?” he asked. Enjolras took his hands with a faint smile. “I support everything you’re doing. And change is happening, even if it is hard to see. I mean, the Supreme Court is going to hear Obergefell, right?”

Enjolras nodded reluctantly. “But what are _we_ doing, R? We’re protesting, holding walkouts, and for what? Nothing.” Enjolras knew this wasn’t exactly true, but he never felt like anything he did had any effect on the world. And it wouldn’t. It didn’t matter anyway, and he shrugged, looking away. “I don’t know, R. This is how I deal with stress, and I don’t see why it is such a bad thing.”

Grantaire sighed. “I’m worried for you, love.” His blue eyes sought out Enjolras’s, and when they met, Grantaire got up and sat back on the bed, pulling Enjolras into a tight embrace. “Just as you are worried for me. That isn’t going to change anytime soon.”

Enjolras nodded into his shoulder. “I understand that. I don’t understand why you insist on continuing to worry." _It's not exactly like I'm worth worrying about._ By now Enjolras realized this was not something he should ever say near Grantaire. His boyfriend would probably try getting him sectioned, and right now he could manage it.

Grantaire sighed once more, releasing Enjolras. He never hugged Enjolras for longer than strictly necessary. Sometimes it really annoyed Enjolras. "Because, Apollo, I love you. So I will always worry."

He got off the bed. Enjolras's eyes tracked his movement. Grantaire stood at the window of their room, looking up at the sky, presumably. Enjolras wished Grantaire would look at him. More than that, he wished Grantaire would hold him longer. "R," Enjolras ventured, "will you...come back?" He hated how vulnerable the question made him seem. Maybe Grantaire didn't want to hold him. Enjolras had just set himself up for rejection from the person he loved.

But Grantaire turned around, looking Enjolras in the eyes once more. Enjolras couldn't tell what emotion he was seeing in Grantaire's eyes as the other man took a few steps closer to Enjolras, then finally sat down on the bed. Grantaire held out his arms in invitation, and Enjolras gratefully melted into them. "Do you need this more often?" Grantaire asked tentatively. 

Enjolras sat up, and looked incredulously at Grantaire. "I love this," he said, and heard the beginnings of a note of panic in his voice. Grantaire reached out and took Enjolras's hands in his. "I need this sort of contact. I thought you knew that." The note hadn't grown, but Enjolras could feel it now, pulsing in his chest. 

Grantaire's eyes were wide now, as though he could sense Enjolras's fear. He wrapped his arms around Enjolras again, holding him tightly. "I thought it made you uncomfortable," Grantaire said. He pulled against Enjolras until they were lying down together, Enjolras curled up against Grantaire, who laid on his side, one arm holding Enjolras close and the other stroking his long hair. "Best be careful, Apollo. You'll never get rid of me now I know long cuddles are okay." Grantaire laughed a bit and pulled Enjolras just a little bit closer. 

Enjolras snorted. "You should have known already. I'm always a slut for cuddles." He paused for effect. "Of course, cuddles are the _only_ thing I'm a slut for, but..." Enjolras wasn't sure if he was going to even try for a real punchline because he started full-on laughing. Laughing for the first time in what felt like years. Grantaire joined in after a single beat, and it wasn't until the laughter had finally died down that Enjolras noticed Combeferre standing in the doorway. 

Combeferre stepped through the door and sat on the bed next to where Enjolras lay. "Feeling better?" he asked gently, placing a long-fingered hand on Enjolras's shoulder. 

Enjolras twisted his neck around to look at Combeferre better. He shrugged as best he could. He had been, in the moment, but he had just been dragged out of it. He moved his arm and patted right next to him. "Join us?" Grantaire shifted, and Enjolras's eyes were back to him in a flash. "All right with you?" he asked quickly.

"Go for it. Cuddles are important to you." He loosened his grip slightly and Enjolras shifted to let Combeferre lay next to him. 

Combeferre obliged with a small smile, draping his arm over Enjolras, not touching Grantaire until the man shifted closer to Enjolras, and then Ferre's arm brushed against his and Enjolras laid in bed and lost himself in the overwhelming love he felt coming from both of them. 

**_BOUNCE_ **

"What's going on here?" an excited voice piped up, and then Enjolras could feel another body draping itself over him by way of Combeferre. Courfeyrac had entered the room. 

Grantaire answered his question with a simple, "Cuddling." Enjolras was thankful that was all that was said, and thankful Combeferre had taken the blade and bandages with him when he left. 

Courfeyrac laughed from his place atop Combeferre. "Sweet, I want in." He rolled over, placing himself in the nook between Combeferre and Enjolras, while still raised off the bed. They all laid like that for a while (Enjolras began to feel more crushed by the second but he loved it). 

Heavier footsteps echoed outside the doorway, and Enjolras recognized Feuilly's voice as he said, "What the hell?" and proceeded to come closer, work boots clomping on the floor. 

Enjolras sighed. Feuilly was the only one among them not going to Stanford; instead, he took night classes at the community college, trying to prep himself for a social work degree. Bahorel helped him a lot, both at the shop where he worked and with school, while avoiding his own duties. "Kick off your boots and you can join us," Enjolras called. He heard two thumps and then there was another body on the bed, this time on the other side, laying half on Grantaire. 

Grantaire shifted until Enjolras was a little more comfortable and, he assumed, Grantaire himself was more comfortable. And then there were more footsteps. Without warning, the bed creaked under the weight of another addition, who laid across the ankles of the pile, and another, who clambered up on top of everyone. Enjolras was getting pressed down into the bed more every second, and it was getting a little difficult to breathe, so he said, as loudly as he dared, "Who just came in?" 

"Me!" called Bossuet's voice from their ankles.

"And me!" said Joly from up top. "We saw cuddling and couldn't resist."

Enjolras took a few deep breaths and burrowed further down, trying to protect himself. Next to him, he noticed Combeferre and Grantaire doing the same. And then more clomping boots came. "Mind if I jump on?" Bahorel asked. Enjolras could hear the smile in his voice. That was something he had missed. Vaguely, he wondered how they were all home at the same time. That didn't usually happen. 

Grantaire sighed. "Kick off your boots." Bahorel did so and Grantaire moved closer to Enjolras, who in turn moved closer to Combeferre, so Bahorel could barely fit on the side of the bed. It caused some jostling up above, and there were giggles and whispers Enjolras couldn't make out. 

Without warning, another weight threw itself across the top of the pile. Enjolras felt the weight digging into him. "CUDDLE PILE!" Jehan cried, and Enjolras smiled at hir enthusiasm. He found that if he adjusted himself a certain way he would be able to breathe under the weight of their bodies, which was good, because it was the weight of their love allowing him to breathe in that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it! I wrote a bit of fluff for this angst piece. I'm proud of myself :) Leave a comment, maybe?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! NaNoWriMo is starting and I have a fairly long paper I'm working on, so I'm not sure how often I'll be able to update, but I will continue trying. 
> 
> Trigger warning for depression.

Enjolras wasn’t sure how long it was after the pile was completely formed for everyone to start clambering off. He personally was convinced he had fallen asleep at some point, and that it had gone on much longer than it had been meant to. This assessment was based on the reduction of pain in his arms, which normally hurt for far longer than they had seemed to this time. 

Regardless of how long everyone was there, Enjolras felt far better knowing they had been there, especially having Combeferre and Grantaire on either side of him. He didn’t feel like a burden like that. Nonetheless, he could breathe easier when everyone was off, and Grantaire stirred, pulling Enjolras flush against his body. 

Combeferre pressed a light kiss to the back of Enjolras’s head. “If you need me, just let me know,” he said softly before leaving the room. Enjolras let his head burrow into Grantaire’s shoulder. He refused to meet the other man’s eyes. 

Grantaire seemed to respect that, eventually saying quietly, “Do you feel any better?” 

Enjolras nodded. After being so quiet for so long, he wasn’t sure he could say anything without his voice cracking a little. 

“Good.” Grantaire’s leg pushed gently between Enjolras’s, an innocent tangling that looked anything but. “Would you like to see my paintings later?”

The question would have sounded innocuous if not for the fact that nobody had ever seen what Grantaire painted up in that room. Enjolras pulled away a bit and stared at Grantaire, meeting his eyes in disbelief. “Yes, but only if you’re comfortable with that.” 

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry about it, Enj. I want you to see them if they will make you feel better.” 

Enjolras smiled at him. He meant for the smile to be happier than he felt it came out, especially considering Grantaire pulled him close again after that. Enjolras wasn’t used to spending this much time lying still, but somehow it felt right in that moment. 

More time passed. Enjolras was vaguely aware that he still hadn’t finished his Justice homework, but found he didn’t care much about it. Eventually Grantaire stirred again and the pair pulled apart, still entangled, but slightly separated. “We could go look at the paintings, if you’re up for moving.”

“I’m always up for moving. It’s odd to stay so still for so long.” Regardless of the truth of this statement, Enjolras didn’t move, instead staying nearly completely still as Grantaire untangled their legs and helped him up. He felt boneless, needing to cling to Grantaire’s hand for assistance standing up and maintaining being upright. 

Grantaire put an arm around his waist to support him, for which Enjolras was grateful. He could technically walk under his own power, he knew, but he couldn’t force himself to do it. The pair made their slow way up to the top floor and into the large room the group had designated Grantaire’s art space.

Enjolras’s eyes widened and he staggered away from Grantaire when he saw what his boyfriend had done to the room. He turned in a slow circle, awestruck at the mountain scene he had stepped into. Every wall was detailed painstakingly, and none were that stereotypical perfect, glaciered wonderland.

There were rockslides and broken houses hanging off of cliffs. On one wall was a dead elk; on another, a wolf gnawing on a pile of gore. The ceiling had not been spared. The skylight was the only source of light in the room, and it was covered by a thin painting of clouds, just like the rest of the ceiling. Geese flew across one of the corners, and there was a storm brewing in another. 

Enjolras reached his hand out and grasped Grantaire’s which was miraculously there right where he needed it. Sufficiently grounded, Enjolras looked around at the canvases, which littered the ground, along with the paints, which were stacked neatly on the only table in the room. The large canvas was attached to the door, which Grantaire had shut behind them, and on it was painted a person.

Enjolras took two reverent steps forward. Grantaire came with him, stabilizing him just by being there. “Is that—?” Enjolras looked at Grantaire.

The other man had a small, nervous smile on his face. “Yeah.” Enjolras looked at the painting again. It was him, but it wasn’t. How had Grantaire painted something so unreal? The painting was of some vengeful god, not him. But there was the scar on his temple, and the weird freckle on his neck. 

Enjolras collapsed to the ground, and Grantaire knelt beside him. Enjolras pulled his knees into himself and started to cry quietly. “Enjolras?” Grantaire said quietly. “Apollo? Are you okay?” 

Enjolras tried to nod, but he wasn’t sure if his head actually moved. “Yeah,” he choked out. “How?”

Grantaire looked at the painting, and then back at Enjolras. “That’s what you look like, Apollo.” Grantaire emphasized the endearment, which only made Enjolras cry harder. How did Grantaire see him like that?

He looked at the painting again, painfully aware of the tears streaming down his face, and took it in better. That was his red jacket, and maybe it made sense that there was a bright aura around him, because maybe he was giving a speech and Enjolras could justify that, but the man in the painting looked so confident…and beautiful.

Grantaire reached his hand out and wiped a couple tears gently from Enjolras’s eye. “You are beautiful,” he said, as though he could read Enjolras’s mind. “You are the sun, Enjolras, do you see it? You are the one that shines the brightest in this room.”

The tone in Grantaire’s voice worried Enjolras a bit, especially considering no one had ever seen this painting, and Grantaire needed validation. “I love it,” he whispered, hoping Grantaire could hear the full meaning behind the words. 

Grantaire pulled Enjolras into another embrace, and they sat in the room full of murals and canvases and cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really appreciate feedback, guys!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Back with another chapter. Thanks for reading this!
> 
> Triggers: mentions of scarring, self-harm, and depression, and a panic attack.
> 
> Also. First to mention the Hamilton reference gets my undying appreciation :D

Somehow no one tried to disturb the pair. Not even Combeferre, who Enjolras knew wanted to make sure he was fine, or at least doing any better after the cuddle pile. When they finally stirred, it was far darker in the room, with a pinker light coming through the skylight. 

Enjolras felt how tightly he was curled up in Grantaire’s arms and allowed himself a small smile. Grantaire stirred a bit. “Looks like we slept through the night,” Enjolras said with a grin and a peck on his boyfriend’s cheek. He noted the dried tear tracks on Grantaire’s face, feeling the ones on his own.

Nobody had come in to check on them, even though they hadn’t come down all night. Enjolras thought that was slightly odd, especially with Combeferre, and especially knowing they had never come down. Oh well. 

They helped each other up, holding hands and standing at the same time. Enjolras looked at the room carefully in the light of the early morning. “Is this why you come up here so early?” he asked, marveling at the soft shadows the light cast over the room.

“Not to paint,” Grantaire said, laughing quietly. “Or at least, not a major painting. I sketch in the morning.”

Enjolras looked at the tables scattered around the room that he really hadn’t looked at before. Sketchbooks were strewn everywhere. He found himself wondering what was inside them, but knew he would never ask. “Do you only paint and draw?” he asked, thinking of sculpture. Sometimes, Grantaire would go on about sculpture, but he had never seen his boyfriend sculpting. Or planning a sculpture.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to try sculpting…like the Greeks did.” Grantaire looked sidelong at him. “Maybe Antinous?”

Enjolras snorted. “Subtle, R.” He shoved his boyfriend gently, who nudged him back.

“Oh, you didn’t let me get to the best part,” he said, a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes. “I was hoping you could model for me.”

Enjolras was startled into outright laughing at that, then he practically fell into Grantaire’s arms. “Sure, let’s do it.” He looked at Grantaire out of the corner of his eyes. “Though I thought I was Apollo, not Antinous.”

Grantaire steadied Enjolras on his feet once more before saying, “Yeah, you’re Apollo. But, I mean, you totally could be Antinous too. Antinous wild.”

“One problem with that, R, and I don’t mean to burst your bubble, but I’m not gay.” He grinned. 

Grantaire looked at the ground for a moment before meeting Enjolras’s eyes. “But you are beautiful.” Enjolras frowned at that, remembering the ugly scars running across and down his arms, remembering that if he were to be sculpted like Antinous often was, he would have to be at least mostly naked, leaving scars out on display, and not just the ones on his arms, but the ones on his thighs, his stomach, all the reasons he never removed his shirt around his boyfriend.

Enjolras didn’t realize he was on the floor until he was in the air, cradled in Grantaire’s arms like a child. “Okay, Enjolras, I’m going to bring you into our room now so I can get you comfortable.”

The room was spinning, and Grantaire wasn’t going to be able to keep holding him, shouldn’t have to keep holding him. Enjolras released a small noise of protest, which was disregarded as Grantaire carefully opened the door to his studio, carrying Enjolras out. Enjolras noted that Grantaire didn’t shut the door like he always did. This didn’t exactly make Enjolras feel any better.

Soon, Enjolras was being set down gently on their large bed, where he had spent entirely too much time the day before and he knew it. But he lay still while Grantaire tucked covers around him, a grounding exercise Enjolras had used on him more than once. “Now, I’m going to go shut the studio door. Stay here, I’ll be right back. I love you.”

With that, Grantaire slid out of the room. Enjolras untangled himself from the covers. Knowing he was having some sort of anxiety attack, he put his head in his hands and breathed deeply. Combeferre had taught him this: how to recognize the symptoms, how to calm down on his own. 

He was still using the breathing technique when Grantaire came back into the room. He was starting to get calmed down enough to speak, so he held up a single finger as he heard his boyfriend come in. When he could concentrate again, he looked up. “Sorry, I think I ruined the moment.”

Grantaire’s mouth dropped open slightly, but he hastily shut it. “Don’t apologize for that, Enjolras. It wasn’t your fault.”

“It kind of was, but thanks for the sentiment.” Enjolras stood and walked to the window. He stared out over the city. The sun was farther up in the sky, now, and Enjolras knew he only had one day left to finish his homework for Monday. 

Grantaire joined him by the window and pressed his hand. “Are you all right?”

Enjolras nodded. “I have so much work to do.” He turned to Grantaire, then pressed a kiss to his lips…a kiss that was tentatively returned. “Where’s my laptop, love?”

Grantaire let out a sharp laugh. “I think it’s in the nightstand drawer. I’ll get it.” Enjolras knew why he offered to grab the laptop. He had hidden a blade in the nightstand. It wasn’t there anymore, obviously, but Grantaire would know the power of association with things like that. 

Grantaire, true to his word, pulled the laptop out of the drawer and handed it to Enjolras, who sat down on the bed and patted the place next to him. Just because he had work to do didn’t mean Grantaire had to be left out. “Want to help me with this case study?” he asked, hoping Grantaire wouldn’t bring anything up while he was working. He really did have a lot of work to do. 

Grantaire settled in next to him, resting his head in the crook of Enjolras’s shoulder, and Enjolras finished his assignment, even with Grantaire pointing out flaws in his argument the whole way.

Truth be told, Enjolras loved the corrections.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me comments, maybe? I love them and they help me update faster.
> 
> And also don't forget to find the Hamilton reference :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow okay it's been a hella long time. I am SO sorry. I wasn't able to keep writing for a while because my head was a bit messed up. But I'm back! 
> 
> There's some swearing in this chapter, and also a joke about brainwashing, some implied abuse in the past and a panic attack (almost). It was going to be fluffy and then things happened.
> 
> Also, quick note: I've changed Jehan's pronouns from they/them to ze/hir. This should be consistent throughout, but it might not fully be. Just so y'all know that hir pronouns changed :)

Once Enjolras was done with his work, it was getting late in the day, and he could hear Grantaire’s stomach rumbling. He glanced down at the time on his laptop. 6:00 P.M. He sighed and turned his head to kiss Grantaire’s forehead. “Hungry?”

Grantaire smiled lazily. “Sure. But you aren’t cooking anything. We both know you’re absolutely hopeless in the kitchen, oh fearless leader.” He poked Enjolras in the belly, and giggled at the ensuing squirming.

"I was going to suggest ordering pizza, but now you've issued a challenge." Enjolras used his talking to administration voice, and Grantaire flat out laughed.

He rolled his eyes and planted a kiss on Enjolras's lips. Enjolras softened at that, kissing his boyfriend back. When the kiss ended, Grantaire said, "No, no, Apollo, I believe Ferre actually banned you from attempting anything in the kitchen. Ever again. You remember what happened with the pancakes."

...

_"Courf, it's stuck!" Enjolras yelled, staring angrily at the blackened batter sticking to the ceiling. Apparently, it was at just the consistency to burn and stick at the same time. Enjolras didn't even know that was possible. It certainly wasn't probable._

_Courfeyrac ran into the kitchen. "What do you mean it's...oh." He burst out laughing. "How the hell, dude?"_

_Enjolras scowled. "Just take care of the damn pancakes while I scrape this one off." He handed Courfeyrac the spatula and climbed on top of a chair to peel the burnt batter off the ceiling. He had just gotten the black shell off before Combeferre entered._

_He stopped, took a look around the kitchen, and frowned. His eyes lingered on Courfeyrac making pancakes and traveled up to Enjolras where he was totally frozen, waiting for a reaction. Combeferre heaved a deep sigh. "Enj?"_

_Enjolras pursed his lips. "I know," he said tersely. "It's handled."_

_Combeferre didn't respond. Instead he looked at Courfeyrac again. His expression turned long-suffering. Enjolras followed his gaze to where Courfeyrac was sprinkling edible glitter into the batter. "Courfeyrac." Courfeyrac turned. "Put the glitter down. It belongs on desserts, not brunch."_

_Courfeyrac put down the glitter. "Glitter is good for anything, Ferre. Including pancakes. Perhaps especially pancakes."_

_"I will finish making brunch. You two. Go." Combeferre was smiling now, but his tone was no less hard._

_Enjolras jumped off the chair and followed Courfeyrac silently out of the kitchen._

...

"Yes, I remember," Enjolras said with a chuckle. "Fine, you win."

Grantaire gasped dramatically. "I never win!" he exclaimed, grinning.

Enjolras reached out and shoved his boyfriend gently. "You win every time, so shush." He smiled. "I'll call for pizza. Sausage?"

"With black olives," Grantaire added. "Gotta get those veggies."

Rolling his eyes, Enjolras pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number. He placed the pizza order quickly and hung up. "Forty minutes." 

Grantaire groaned, an exaggerated sound. "Man, maybe I _should_ have let you cook." 

Enjolras rolled over and wrapped his arms around Grantaire. In a low voice, he said, "Be serious."

Grantaire turned his head so he was breathing directly into Enjolras's ear. "Hail Hydra," he whispered in response.

Enjolras jerked back as though he had been slapped. "What the fuck did you just say?" 

He glared as Grantaire widened his eyes innocently. "I said 'I am wild', what do you think I said?" Enjolras swallowed the smirk that threatened to come to his lips. 

Pulling his sternest face, Enjolras said, "Leave your Hydra bullshit at the door. This is a SHIELD only zone."

Grantaire sat up, straightened his shoulders, and turned his head to look at Enjolras, face going blank. "Happy to comply."

Enjolras held back his snort. "Dude, not cool."

"Seriously not cool," another voice interjected from the now-open doorway. Enjolras looked up, only to see the horrified face of Jehan. 

"Shit," he said under his breath. Grantaire looked as if he wanted to disappear on the spot.

Jehan said, very quietly, "I came up to ask if either of you wanted brownies. I just baked them." Hir eyes had filled with tears.

Grantaire slumped back against the bed. His face was white. 

Enjolras climbed out of bed and crossed the room to set a hand on Jehan's shoulder. Ze flinched, and Enjolras drew his hand back immediately, taking a step away. "Are you all right?"

"Brainwashing jokes?" Jehan retorted. A tear fell. 

Grantaire spoke up, voice shaking. "I started it, Jehan, I'm sorry."

Jehan rounded on him, taking several stiff steps toward the bed. "Are you? Or are you sorry I was around to hear it? Because brainwashing isn't funny. Ever." Though hir face was red and tears were falling from hir eyes, hir voice was chilly. 

Enjolras knew better than to follow them. Instead, he spoke up from where he was near the doorway. "I know they aren't funny."

"Then why the fuck were you smirking?" Jehan pointed out. Ze shook hir head. "No. I'm going back downstairs. Just so you guys know, Cosette is down there with Marius. I doubt she would take kindly to your _jokes_ either."

"I really am sorry, Jehan," Grantaire said again. Ze didn't answer, stepping around Enjolras to leave the room. 

Once ze was gone, Grantaire and Enjolras exchanged a wide-eyed look. "I really didn't mean to upset hir," Grantaire said quietly.

Enjolras's heart was beating rapidly. "I'm sure Jehan knows that." He tried to relax his tense muscles and failed. Grantaire was up like a shot and had his arms wrapped around Enjolras before Enjolras knew what was happening. "I still feel terrible, though."

"Me too. But we can apologize to hir later, when ze's calmed down a bit. I think ze wants to be alone." Grantaire's voice was steady where Enjolras's had shaken. That fact alone helped Enjolras to calm down a bit, matching his erratic breathing to Grantaire's smooth breaths. 

The phone rang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought! 
> 
> Also next chapter should be the last chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: brainwashing jokes, implied past abuse.
> 
> Also this isn't the last chapter, and you can thank my roommate for that. I can't make things have a less than happy ending so you'll have a good one to look forward to :)

Enjolras's phone buzzed in his pocket several times, "La Marseillaise" playing loudly. He finally reached a hand down and pulled the phone out of his pocket. It was Cosette. Why she called instead of coming up to the room, Enjolras didn't know. But he answered it anyway. "Hello?"

Grantaire looked at him curiously as Cosette said, very calmly and sweetly, "Would you like to explain to me why Jehan ran down here crying and is currently locked in the bathroom and will not come out?"

Enjolras sent a panicked look at Grantaire, who was equally wide-eyed, as Enjolras's volume was turned up loud enough for him to hear Cosette's words. "Um...we were joking around about HYDRA?" Enjolras didn't mean to be evasive, but he really wanted to avoid the wrath of Cosette as long as he possibly could. Along with the wrath of Cosette would come the wrath of Eponine, and of Marius, and of Courfeyrac (especially when it involved Jehan), and of Combeferre. And those five together...Enjolras shuddered to think.

Cosette was silent for a long moment. "HYDRA. As in, the enemy of SHIELD. As in, the organization that brainwashes people to do its will." 

"Yes?" Enjolras walked to the bed and sat down. Grantaire followed him, resting a gentle hand on his thigh. 

"So what you are telling me is that you made a brainwashing joke around Jehan." 

Grantaire pried the phone from Enjolras's white-knuckled hand. Enjolras slumped down as Grantaire said, "I made the joke. I didn't know ze was there or that ze heard. I know that kind of joke is screwed up, before you lecture me about it."

"Then why would you make it?" Enjolras could still hear that soft tone in Cosette's voice, and he didn't want to anymore. He grabbed the phone from Grantaire and hung up. It was only when Grantaire looked at him askance that he realized what he had done. And by then it was too late, and he was hearing quiet footsteps on the stairs. 

Cosette knocked on the doorframe before stepping inside. She tilted her head curiously. "Why did you hang up? I called so maybe you would talk to me." Her voice was still calm. "No matter. You two made Jehan cry. By making brainwashing jokes. When ze came up here to offer you brownies. You know why that was wrong. My question is why would you do it." She didn't even cross her arms. 

Enjolras sighed. "We didn't know ze was there. Grantaire was trying to cheer me up. We were just joking around."

"Brainwashing is never funny." Cosette frowned. "Never."

"I'm sorry," Grantaire said softly. "I really didn't mean to hurt hir."

"Well, you did. Courfeyrac is currently trying to get Jehan to at least tell him what happened." Cosette delivered this earth-shattering revelation in a voice growing more tense with each word. "Marius is frankly in shock. I convinced him not to tell Combeferre and that I could deal with this myself. So." Enjolras was shaking, Grantaire's arm around him keeping him from falling apart completely. "You both are going to go downstairs and apologize to Jehan. You will tell hir exactly why the joke was made. You will not use that reason as an excuse. I'm sending Marius to Mabeauf's to get flowers to cheer Jehan up." Cosette's voice contained anger now, which was terrifying in and of itself.

Enjolras nodded swiftly. "We'll do that," he said, embarrassed at the stark fear in his voice. 

Grantaire agreed, "I was wrong to do what I did. I owe hir an apology."

Cosette nodded and turned on her heel to go downstairs. Enjolras let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding, and Grantaire's shoulders relaxed into his normal posture. 

They stood by unspoken agreement, going downstairs and coming to a silent halt by the bathroom door, where Courfeyrac was slumped. He glared at the two as they approached. "What the hell did you do?" he whispered fiercely, standing and taking a couple steps closer to the pair.

Enjolras just shook his head and kept moving. He was uncomfortable enough with his. He reached out and knocked on the door. "Courf, I told you I don't want to come out." Jehan's voice shook. It was obvious ze was crying. 

"It's Enjolras."

"And Grantaire." The pair spoke one right after the other, very quickly. 

Jehan snorted audibly. "What do you two want?"

Grantaire placed a hand on Enjolras's shoulder, stopping the words that were about to come out of his mouth short. "We're here to apologize, Jehan. My joke was totally out of line and should never have been made."

A sniffle came from behind the door. "Damn right."

Enjolras spoke up then, cautiously. "He was trying to cheer me up with Marvel references and things got out of hand." He met Grantaire's questioning look and nodded slowly. He was going to tell Jehan. But wasn't that manipulative? He couldn't tell hir. Nope, no way. 

"Can you come out so we can talk?" Grantaire asked. Courfeyrac and Cosette were still around, and Enjolras was grateful for Grantaire's attempt at keeping the conversation private. It was too late to back out now. Or was it? He wasn't totally sure he was comfortable with this. But this was Jehan. Jehan probably deserved to know. 

Enjolras took a breath to say something, but the door creaked open slowly. "You want to talk? Privately?" Jehan looked Grantaire in the eye, then turned hir red-rimmed gaze on Enjolras. Tear tracks stained hir face, and hir voice shook slightly. 

Grantaire nodded. "If that's all right with you."

"Lead the way," ze said softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought!


	9. AUTHOR'S NOTE

Hey guys,

So I have been drowning under work and mental health problems this semester and I feel absolutely terrible about not updating this fic. I am working on a plan for the rest of the story and will definitely get it finished. I'm so sorry it's taken this long, and I hope very much it won't take much longer. 

If you want to come pester me to update, my tumblr is [here](enbycourf.tumblr.com) and I always love hearing from people. 

Anja


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